Remember
by hetafan13
Summary: Arthur continues to write letters and poems to Alfred, despite never once receiving a letter in return. Songfic for VY2 Yuuma's version of the Vocaloid song "Nenchakukei Danshi no 15-nen Nechinechi" "A Clingy Boy Sticking for 15 Years" , Human AU, One-Shot.


**Title:** Remember

**Author:** chirigirl13

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Arthur continues to write letters and poems to Alfred, despite never once receiving a letter in return. Songfic for VY2 Yuuma's version of the Vocaloid song "Nenchakukei Danshi no 15-nen Nechinechi" ("A Clingy Boy Sticking for 15 Years"), Human AU.

**Author's Note:** The poems are not mine; I got them from various websites that I will list at the end of the fic. Also, please ignore any cultural references in the lyrics that I couldn't manage to work into the letters or poems...And some of the lyrics in this song are quite..._odd,_ so it should be obvious which lyrics I chose to either ignore or reinterpret to make a bit more sense. XD; (Also, I apologize for the formatting; wasn't letting me space out the stanzas for the poems, so I had to put periods in between each stanza. -_-)

* * *

_These poems written of my love for you, _

_I've been sending them for 15 years straight._

_And there's still no reply, _

_And there's still no reply._

* * *

_The first year, I was reckless:_

_I wrote each and every day without fail._

_I licked stamps with insistence, _

_Sending you my heart's spit._

Dear Alfred,

You're probably getting sick of all of these letters and poems I've been sending you, right? Well, too bad git, you're going to have to put up with them until you tell me to stop writing.

I wrote this poem while thinking of us, our childhood, and the friendship we had:

\\\\\\

Growing pains

Broken chains

A sad melody

.

Falling tears

Listening ears

A friend just for me

.

Reaching out

Sharing doubt

When life gets me down

.

Hands to clutch

Gentle touch

Can turn me around

.

Spoken words

Softly heard

Cognitivity

.

Holding tight

Loving light

Calm serenity

\\\\\\

I don't even think you realize just how much you meant to me—how much you still mean to me. You were the only person who was willing to stay by my side, to comfort me, to be my friend...I wonder, was everything that we had...were those words we exchanged at the playground—the promise to be friends to the end, the promise to never leave one another, and to always be there for each other through thick and thin...Were they all lies?

...Or was it my fault? Did I ruin it by telling you that I love you? I suppose I'll never know if you don't answer.

Love,

Arthur

* * *

_The second year, I was still reckless:_

_My house setting ablaze wouldn't even catch my attention._

_In fact, my clothes caught fire from below, _

_And by the time I noticed, only the collar was left._

Dear Alfred,

I find that as each day passes, I can only think more and more of you, despite not hearing back from you. I wish you would understand just how much it is that I love you, just how much I want to be with you...

I found myself daydreaming about what it would be like for the two of us to fly away together, and to see the stars that you always loved up close. I'm sure your smile would shine much brighter than any of the stars we would see...But I digress. Even in my daydreams, my mind seems to create poems meant for you:

\\\\\\

I think that I might fly away, in my hot air balloon,

And hide from worldly worries on the dark side of the moon;

There's but one thing I need before I float into the blue:

I need a sky companion and I want it to be you.

.

We'll fly beyond the storm clouds and we'll watch from up above,

I'll cover you in rainbows as we feel each others' love;

You'll shower in the stars at midnight in our special place,

I'll dry you with a comet's tail and kiss your beaming face.

.

Dreamy drifting panorama, changing every day,

Every night your loving smile will be my milky way,

The moon will wane before us, sailing there in heaven's height,

For nothing else can challenge our love's everlasting light.

.

Venus shining on us, glowing soft at our devotion,

Our daily drifting dalliance in love's celestial ocean,

I'll write you lovers' poetry, and you will be my muse,

Orion and Andromeda will oversee our cruise.

.

We'll sleep with clouds as pillows, maybe steal an angel's wings,

Then fly as magic lovebirds, or slide round Saturn's rings,

And should we tire of drifting and the stars all floating by,

We'll hook onto a meteor and soar across the sky.

.

Will you consent to be my mate on our celestial ship?

I'm ready, heart all packed with love, to last us for the trip,

Take my hand and step aboard, we're heading for the sun,

We're flying till we find the place where our two souls are one.

\\\\\\

Daydreams can be a very dangerous thing, however...I nearly burnt my house down because I got a bit too drawn into my daydreams of being with you and forgot that I was cooking...I hope you know that I would have come after you and made you pay for a new house for me if it really _had_ burnt down, you bloody git, because it was all your fault. As it was, my favorite shirt was completely burnt and I was forced to toss it out. I hope you're happy. And if you're laughing at me right now, which I have no doubt you are, you'd better stop bloody laughing because it isn't funny you git!

Love,

Arthur

P.S.: Don't ask how I managed to burn my shirt off without seriously injuring myself. Both I and the doctors are still attempting to figure that one out.

* * *

_In the third year, I calmed down:_

_I'd already reached the limits of literature._

_I publicized my mixi journal,_

_And my MyMixis maxed out the counter._

Dear Alfred,

I was considering publishing some of these poems that I've written for you...I would ask if you'd mind, but you haven't answered a single letter I've sent you, so I suppose that would be a pointless question to ask. ...I wonder if, someday, you'll finally answer these letters? Not that it matters; I'll continue to write to you regardless of whether you answer or not.

I wrote this poem in the hopes that you might just see what I see, if only for a minute:

\\\\\\

All I ever wanted was to be part of your heart,

And for us to be together, to never be apart.

No one else in the world can even compare,

You're perfect and so is this love that we share.

We have so much more than I ever thought we would,

I love you more than I ever thought I could.

I promise to give you all I have to give,

I'll do anything for you as long as I live.

In your eyes I see our present, our future and past,

By the way you look at me I know we will last.

I hope that one day you'll come to realize,

How perfect you are when seen through my eyes.

\\\\\\

Though I suppose I never saw _this_ as part of our future...I wanted it to last, Alfred, I really did—I wanted _us_ to last, because I love you so much...

Love,

Arthur

* * *

_In the fourth year, I wrote for a magazine, _

_And I branched out into social issues._

_I decided to release a poem compilation, _

_And I made fun of salaryman._

Dear Alfred,

I've finally started to make myself known in the writing world, and things seem to be going surprisingly well so far. I managed to secure a position as a journalist for a small magazine, but once I published my book of compiled poems that I wrote for you (as I figured, you never got back to me, so I just went and published it—too bad for you, git, I _might_ have shared the credit with you, had you replied), I was approached by one of the most popular magazines in the state. Of course I took the position, and while they're not poems, writing about social issues and the like is surprisingly interesting...I wonder if you're happy for me, that I've finally found a job I love, and a use for my supposed talent for writing.

Of course, it doesn't matter how many jobs I take on...New poems will always come to mind whenever I think of you, such as this one:

\\\\\\

Made up of memories of you

Bound together with love

Sewn with your selfless giving

Threads made of grace

Lined with thoughts of you.

.

Squares made of days gone by

Days we spent together

Each with a new design

Of the things that we shared.

.

Blanket stitches of our hearts

Mingle the squares in rows

Nothing can tear it apart

Not fire or flood or anything close.

.

It's kept in a place of my keeping

The treasure chest of my heart

Wrapped in tissue of forgiveness

And tied with ribbons of love.

.

The colors all speak of you

Pinks and Blues and other hues

Sewn tight and fastened together

With hope and faith and truth.

\\\\\\

The patchwork quilt of our hearts...It must sound silly to you, no doubt, but to me it means a lot: Every patch on the quilt representative of every memory we share, all the good times that we had together, all the times that you comforted me and made me smile, all the times that you were my hero...I wonder if you still remember things like these? I wonder if you still think of things like these...I wonder if you still think of me at all...

Love,

Arthur

* * *

_These poems written of my love for you, _

_I've been sending them for 15 years straight._

_And there's still no reply, _

_And there's still no reply._

* * *

_By the fifth year, I was a pro poet:_

_I captivated women 20 to 34._

_But since I was so earnest,_

_I saw other girls as inexperienced pansies._

Dear Alfred,

It seems that being a professional author—or poet, in my case—has both its perks and its downfalls. Unfortunately, it seems that what most famous poets might consider a huge perk is, to me, an annoyance at best, and a right pain in the arse at worst.

Bloody. Fangirls.

Yes, you read that right. _Fangirls._ Me, Arthur Kirkland, the boy that even the _girls_ would laugh at and make fun of, has fangirls. I'm sure you're laughing your bloody arse off at this point, aren't you? Part of me wants to take this and rub it in your "oh look at me I'm Mister-bloody-Popular and have girls hanging off of me at every minute of the bloody day" face...But an even _larger_ part of me just wants these bloody fangirls to _take a hint already_.

All of my poems are love poems. So, if I am able to write such exquisite pieces of prose that seem to, according to them, accurately capture what love is all about, then quite obviously...my heart belongs to someone already. How else would I be able to capture those feelings in words if I didn't already possess them myself?

Though, this wasn't always the case. If someone had told me as a child that I would have grown up to become a poet that specializes in love poems, I would have both laughed in their face and questioned their sanity. I never believed that I was capable of falling in love, and I never believed that I could—or _would—_love anyone, most certainly not as much as I love you.

...Inspiration strikes at the oddest of times. Just by following this train of thought, I seem to have come up with another poem for you:

\\\\\\

I thought love was just a mirage of the mind,

it's an illusion, it's fake, impossible to find.

But the day I met you, I began to see,

that love is real, and exists in me.

\\\\\\

I hope that one day my feelings will reach you, Alfred. I love you—I always have, and I always will.

Love,

Arthur

* * *

_By the sixth year, my body was ruined:_

_I'd already passed 2,000 poems._

_Not a bone hadn't been broken, _

_Not an organ hadn't been damaged._

Dear Alfred,

I'm currently writing to you from the hospital. Yes, _again_. I realize that this is the...eighth? Ninth? Tenth time I'm writing to you from the hospital? Or perhaps even the eleventh, or twelfth...Oh hell, I can't keep track, this has been a bloody awful year for me.

I'm sure you're laughing your arse off at me, aren't you? Calling me a klutz just as you used to when we were children—And just as I did then, I shall do the same now and pin the blame on you, because it was _always_ your fault. My mind was, and still is, always so focused on you that I seem to forget about myself...and thus I wind up where I currently am: Laying in a hospital bed, this time with my leg slung up and in a cast due to writing a poem while walking. (For the record, I've walked up and down that hall a million times, and those stairs were _never_ there, I swear it! Some fairy must have magicked them up as a prank, those bloody fairies...)

But in other, more _positive_ news, I counted them up, and it seems that I've written far more poems than even I myself had thought: 2,051 poems total. Though another poem for you has just come to mind as I'm writing this, so I suppose I shall amend that and say 2,052 poems total...2,052 poems written from me, to you, and _only_ to you.

\\\\\\

I don't think you will

ever fully understand

how you've touched my life

and made me who I am.

.

I don't think you could ever know

just how truly special you are

that even on the darkest nights

you are my brightest star.

.

I don't think you will ever fully comprehend

how you've made my dreams come true

or how you've opened my heart

to love and the wonders it can do.

.

You've allowed me to experience

something very hard to find

unconditional love that exists

in my body, soul, and mind.

.

I don't think you could ever feel

all the love I have to give

and I'm sure you'll never realize

you've been my will to live.

.

You are an amazing person

and without you I don't know where I'd be.

Having you in my life

completes and fulfills every part of me.

\\\\\\

I love you so much, Alfred...My only wish at this point is not even for you to return my feelings as a lover, but to at least acknowledge my feelings as a friend. I would much rather have the love and support of a friend than nothing at all. ...But I suppose that even _this_ is a fruitless wish, isn't it? I'm sure I'll never truly know how you feel towards me if you don't answer these letters...

Love,

Arthur

* * *

_In the seventh year, I was in perfect form,_

_So today, I'll compare you to something:_

_Perhaps you're like extreme ironing,_

_Perhaps you're like a compound inner product space._

Dear Alfred,

Finally, I've managed to survive a week without landing myself in a hospital bed. Let's just hope that my luck doesn't wear out by me saying such a thing...

I've been busy catching myself up with all the work that seemed to pile up in the month or so that I was in and out of the hospital, but even while working, I find my thoughts drifting to you, to _us_, to what used to be...And as I remembered my first meeting with you, I was struck with the inspiration for yet another poem, this one different from most of my other poems that I've sent you. I don't often write free-verse poems, but I feel that the message in this poem is best not derailed by the forceful inserting of a rhyming scheme. (Here's hoping that you're not too thickheaded to be able to read into a metaphor...Feel free to picture me rolling my eyes at you at this point.)

\\\\\\

A solitary rose grew in the darkest corner of the garden

Surrounded by many others

Yet remained alone

.

Time passed and trials came and went

One dealt a severe blow

And the rose began to wilt and wither

.

_Forgotten..._

.

Then... as if by a miracle...

.

There came a soft and gentle breeze

Followed by a ray of light

As all the other roses fell into darkness

The solitary rose began to shine

.

Shining with a special light...

And watered by a gentle cascade...

A cascade of love

A cascade of selfless affection

.

"_I do... not now but forever..._"

Said the rose to the sunlight

And there they remain

A rose in full bloom

With his sunshine smiling down on him...

.

You are my sunshine, my life, my very soul

And I your rose blooming in the light of your love.

\\\\\\

Alfred, you know better than most people the kind of environment I was raised in. A mother who died giving birth to me, an abusive father, abusive older brothers...There was no love in my life, no light, no hope, _nothing_. I was ridiculed and ostracized by my peers due to my brothers' influences and my interests in things that they were all unable to see, and thus unable to comprehend. But you...you were different. You were the first person to walk up to me and declare yourself my friend. You were the first person that cared about me, the first person that showed me kindness, the first person that loved me—even if it was just the love of a friend, it was all I needed to learn how to love others...and it goes without saying that you were the first person that I learnt to love. The first...and the last.

Love,

Arthur

* * *

_Even in the eighth year, I didn't change,_

_So today, I'll compare you to something: _

_Perhaps you're like winning every match in 16 sumo tournaments,_

_Perhaps you're like an AMPA glutamine receptor._

Dear Alfred,

Things seem to finally be getting back on track for me—I've caught up with all my work, and I've managed to get my body back in shape (while keeping it _out_ of a hospital bed, thankyouverymuch). Of course, even while I was busy catching myself up, I found myself thinking of you...I hardly do much else aside from write and think of you, to be honest.

My publisher asked me to try and come up with more simile poems, but I find them so difficult to write...Perhaps this poem that I wrote for you will show you why.

\\\\\\

I wish to compare you to all the best, it all seems so cliché,

All the best "compare's" are taken, so now I fall into deep thought.

To a rose, your petals blue, your scent is so subliminal,

A sunset to as well, your colors blend so very perfectly.

To the first breath a child takes, fresh from the womb,

You are the first breath I take, morning, night and noon.

I say this not, for saying's sake, or to gain your love,

I say this all to show my love, to convey my heart, toward a dove.

Through the peaks of our love, and the valleys of our pain,

You showed me how to live not in the purity of vain.

You have become my heart, my soul, my brain.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't compare you to others,

Moreover I compare others to you.

\\\\\\

...I believe I shall submit this poem to my publisher. Perhaps this will be sufficient enough of a simile love poem to get her off my case. After all, how can I write a poem comparing you to something if you're far too incredible to be properly compared to anything? Comparing you to anything would just be an insult to you, I believe.

Love,

Arthur

* * *

_These poems written of my love for you, _

_I've been sending them for 15 years straight._

_And there's still no reply, _

_And there's still no reply._

* * *

_On the ninth year, I had an accident:_

_Apparently I suffered quite a blow to the head._

_And though I'd forgotten my own name, _

_I remembered only that I loved you._

Dear Alfred,

According to the doctors, I took a bad fall down the stairs and hit my head...I woke up just a few days ago with no memory. The doctors say it's amnesia, and that it's impossible to tell when I'll get my memory back, if ever. I suppose you're wondering how I'm writing to you, then?

It's the oddest thing, really. I can't seem to remember anything except for your name...and how much I love you.

I wonder, what is our relation? Are we friends? Lovers? What do you look like? What do you sound like? I honestly can't remember...and it scares me. It's a horrible feeling, not being able to remember anything...But all I need to do is say your name aloud, and my fear goes away. It's amazing, really.

Someone told me that I'm a famous poet...I wouldn't have believed it if a poem hadn't come to mind the minute I uttered your name.

\\\\\\

I wrote your name in the sky,

but the wind blew it away.

I wrote your name in the sand,

but the waves washed it away.

I wrote your name in my heart,

and forever it will stay.

\\\\\\

I don't even remember my own name, yet I remember yours...You must be such an important person to me. Alfred, please reply as soon as possible; you're my only hope for getting my memories back, I just know it...

Love,

...I don't even know how to sign this letter off. Your Beloved, I guess. Ah, but would "Love, Your Beloved" be redundant? Would you even know who this is from that alone? I hope you do...

* * *

_Through the tenth year, through the eleventh year, _

_My memories didn't return._

_And yet, I loved you;_

_All I could want was your reply._

Dear Alfred,

It's already been a year since I lost my memories, and I've yet to hear back from you...Though I suppose it makes sense, seeing as I can't seem to find your address. I've been saving all of the letters I was writing you this past year, with the hopes of sending them to you upon finding your address...But it's incredibly difficult to find someone's address based on a first name alone.

Despite this, there's something in me that tells me not to stop writing. So I'll keep writing of my love for you, Alfred, and I'll hope that one day you'll come and find me, and I'll show you these letters, and you'll help me get my memory back...

\\\\\\

I love you with a permanence

That endures the passing years.

I love you with a joyfulness

That subdues all doubts and fears.

I love you with an honesty

That was born within my heart.

I love you with the calm belief

That we will never part.

I love you with a confidence

No earthly force can sever.

I love you with the certainty

That I'll cherish you forever.

I love you with the humbleness

Of one who has been blessed.

I love you with the reverence

Of all that word suggests.

I love you with a fervor

That time cannot reverse.

I love you with the truest love

That poets put to verse.

\\\\\\

.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

.

Dear Alfred,

Two years have passed since I lost my memories, and not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of you. Why haven't you found me yet, Alfred? Why haven't I found _you_ yet? I love you so much, I want to meet you so badly...

\\\\\\

If there's one face I want to see,

so beautiful, so true,

one smile that makes a difference,

to everything I do.

.

If there's one touch I long to feel,

one voice I long to hear,

whenever I am happy,

or just needing someone near.

.

If there's one joy, one love,

from which I never want to part,

it's you, my very special love,

my world, my life, my heart.

\\\\\\

I love you, Alfred. Please find me soon...I'll continue trying to find you too, and I'll never stop writing to you.

* * *

_Through the twelfth year, through the thirteenth year, _

_My memories didn't return._

_But I still loved you; _

_That was all I had._

Dear Alfred,

Three years...Three years and my memories have still not returned. Every time I try and remember, my head and my heart both hurt...I wonder why? Is there a reason why you haven't found me yet, Alfred? Do you not care about me? Do you not love me?

Don't worry, I don't care about something like that, Alfred. Even if you don't love me, I'll keep loving you no matter what.

\\\\\\

A path winding across the horizon

over mountains, across seas

through blue skies and gray

never ceasing, continuous.

My love for you.

\\\\\\

.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

.

Dear Alfred,

It's been four years now, and my memory still hasn't returned. I've seen all different doctors, but they can't seem to find anything wrong with me...They say that all I can do is wait and hope that one day I get them back. In the meantime, I keep my focus on my love for you, the one and only sure thing in my life at this point...

\\\\\\

My love is like an ocean

It goes down so deep

My love is like a rose

Whose beauty you want to keep.

.

My love is like a river

That will never end

My love is like a dove

With a beautiful message to send.

.

My love is like a song

That goes on and on forever

My love is like a prisoner

It's to you that I surrender.

\\\\\\

* * *

_Even by the fourteenth year, they still hadn't come back._

_Every day was frightening and uneasy._

_I just wanted a glimpse at you,_

_I just wanted a word to you._

Dear Alfred,

I don't know how much longer I can last like this, Alfred. I've lived for five years without my memory...Do you know what that's like? Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning not knowing who you are, feeling like a stranger in your own home, in your own _body?_ Trying to think back and not remembering anything before a hospital bed and doctors discussing head trauma and memory loss? It's so hard, Alfred, so hard...I love you so much, I just want to see you, I just want to hear you, _please_, just once, just _once_, and I swear I'll never bother you again, no matter how much I want to be with you for the rest of eternity...

Even now, even in the midst of my begging and pleading, my mind writes a poem for you...It seems that my desires can only be truly conveyed through poetry.

\\\\\\

If I could have just one wish,

I would wish to wake up everyday

to the sound of your breath on my neck,

the warmth of your lips on my cheek,

the touch of your fingers on my skin,

and the feel of your heart beating with mine...

Knowing that I could never find that feeling

with anyone other than you.

\\\\\\

* * *

_In the fifteenth year, my memories returned._

_I remembered everything, and burst into tears, _

(This letter is different from the rest. The normally perfect handwriting is shaky and sloppy, the paper sprinkled with dots of water that blur some of the words and make them illegible.)

D— Alfr—

—y, after six —...I got my mem— back...but I wish that - —dn't.

_Because I remembered... _

I've lived for the p— —ew years th—g I'd some— -e able to meet you. I'd much ra— have cont— to live —out my mem— and w— this belief...than to g— -y memories back — —member that I'll —er be able to see — again...

_That you died 15 years ago._

* * *

_These poems written of my love for you, _

_If they kept piling up, would they someday reach you? _

_In your former room, _

_Every day, they stacked upward._

Dear Alfred,

My apologies for my previous letter...I appear to have lost my composure. I've saved all the letters and all the poems that I wrote for you, even while I lost my memories...they're all in your room, along with the ones I've written for you every day for the past eight years before that. I wonder, if I write enough letters, if I stack them high enough, will they reach you in heaven?

_I couldn't see you anymore, _

_And I kept loving you._

_But I thought we'd meet again, _

_And you disappeared again._

I miss you so much, Alfred...It was so incredibly difficult to wake up that one day, and realize that the person I'd been waiting to meet for all those years was beyond my reach. But I will continue to write to you, and continue to love you...

It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, though. Especially when the first memory that returned to me was the memory of your death.

\\\\\\

It was like the world was over,

As you lay in the hospital bed,

Waiting to be dead,

I wished you could stay,

I visited you every day,

I left flowers next to your side,

And wished the doctors had lied,

I will remember that day always,

As you slowly slipped away from me,

I would give up anything for you, even the sea,

I felt your hands turn cold,

And I felt as if my heart had been sold,

I cried at the funeral and with my friends,

Wherever I went without you it was like a bunch of dead ends.

.

I can never find someone like you,

The love of my life.

\\\\\\

Forever Yours,

Arthur

* * *

_These poems written of my love for you, _

_I've been sending them for 16 years straight._

_And there's still no reply, _

_And there's still no reply._

* * *

**Author's Note:** You know what the funny thing is? I was actually listening to France's Hetaloid version of this song when I got the idea for this fic...Yeah, I don't get how I got a USUK angst fic out of hearing a cover by France's Hetaloid, but I'm not about to argue with results. XD; I hope everyone enjoyed my first songfic! Let me know what you thought! ^_^

And just to prevent myself from being accused of plagiarism, here's the links to all of the poems I used in the fic. XD;

Poem 1: 100-poems poems/friendship/1204001. htm  
Poem 2: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem69. html  
Poem 3: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem24. html  
Poem 4: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem90. html  
Poem 5: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem19. html  
Poem 6: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem28. html  
Poem 7: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem70. html  
Poem 8: www. lovelifepoems love-poem / if-i-could-compare-you  
Poem 9: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem09. html  
Poem 10: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem59. html  
Poem 11: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem64. html  
Poem 12: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem27. html  
Poem 13: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem15. html  
Poem 14: www. lovepoemsandquotes LovePoem03. html  
Poem 15: www. short-love-poem lostlove2. html


End file.
